


Morning shifts

by foggysundays



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Related, Bakery, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-10 08:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15945377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggysundays/pseuds/foggysundays
Summary: Dean knows he´s being ridiculous, but what is he supposed to do? Go out there and introduce himself?He snorts in amusement. Yeah, right. That wouldn´t be weird at all.





	Morning shifts

It´s Friday morning, 4:45 am, and all Dean wants to do is crawl back into his bed and sleep for another five hours. He´s dead tired and miserable, left hand clutching an over-sized thermos-cup of coffee while his right hand is fumbling with the keys to the door in front of him.

It takes him a few tries until he finds the right angle to push the keys into the lock, but then the door opens and the bright lights of his kitchen are flooding the peaceful twilight of the morning.

Dean blinks against the sudden assault and pulls the door closed behind him, not even bothering to say hello. The bang of the door is usually more than enough to announce his presence, and today is not any different.

“Morning, brother!“ Benny drawls from the other side of the room and goes right back to whistling along to the ridiculous pop song playing on their radio.

God, Dean fucking hates him.

Benny´s the epitome of a morning person, all bright and chipper, ready to start the day with a smile and his notoriously bright mood.

He´s the direct antithesis to Dean, who´s never really functional before 10 am and regularly drinks his own weight in coffee in order to survive the morning shifts.

Luckily, Benny knows that and has long since learned how to deal with his grumpy ass. Which means that when Dean emerges from the break room five minutes later, there´s already another cup of coffee waiting for him.

Benny shakes his head in silent amusement when Dean downs half of it in one go, but he wisely doesn´t say anything. He´s long since learned his lesson.

They work in tandem for the next two hours, mixing ingredients and kneading dough with practiced movements, and soon the whole room is filled with the delicious smell of freshly baked bread and the sweet scent of cupcakes.

It´s just past seven when Andrea and Anna walk in and greet Dean with smiles that´re way too chipper for his taste and the early hour. They´re used to his moods and only laugh at him while Andrea dances over to Benny to give him his good morning kiss, which he returns with a mushy smile and their usual flirty banter.

Fucking disgusting, the whole lot of them.

With a roll of his eyes, Dean goes back to his blueberry muffins, pushing them into the huge oven before starting on the cinnamon buns.

Andrea joins Benny in his whistling while she and Anna open up the bakery, but then their first costumers come in and soon they´re all working hard to keep them satisfied.

It´s around 8:00 when things start to slow down a bit. The worst of the early morning crowd has been dealt with, and Dean and Benny have a few minutes of quiet before they have to get started on the second batch.

Dean flops into one of the comfy chairs in their break room, groans and tries to sink deeper into the cushions. He´s already cradling another cup of coffee, nearly inhaling the drink while Benny slowly sips his own beverage.

“Don´t you think you´ve had enough yet, brother?” Benny says, somewhere between amusement and honest-to-god worry. “Gonna give yourself a heart attack if you keep that up.”

Dean scowls and opens his mouth to defend himself, but before he can answer, they´re interrupted by Andrea sticking her head through the door.

“Dean!“ She hisses exitedly. “Dean! _He´s back_!“

Dean´s heart skips a beat and then starts back up with double its normal speed.

“Who is back?“ He asks with feigned nonchalance, trying his best to play it cool and failing miserably. He´s always been a horrible liar.

Predictably, Andrea only rolls her eyes and grabs his hand. “Cut the crap, Winchester, and hurry the hell up, Anna´s nearly done with his order."

She drags him back into the kitchen and then shoves and pushes at Dean´s shoulder until both of their faces are smashed against the tiny window in their kitchen door. It´s more than just a little ridiculous, not to mention all sorts of stalkery, but all of his left-over morals quickly go down the drain as soon as Dean sees _him_.

_Sam_.

Sam of the gorgeous hair and the ever changing eyes.

Sam who wears the most obnoxious neon green running shoes and a blindingly bright orange shirt that would look absolutely ridiculous on anyone else, but somehow looks devastatingly hot on him.

Sam who comes in at least four times a week and on whom Dean has been crushing on for the better part of the past three months. And who can blame him, really?

The guy looks like he belongs on the cover of Men´s Health, all huge and ripped and stunningly handsome.

He usually visits Dean´s bakery right after his morning run, flushed and sweaty from his workout, his shirt sticking to his torso obscenely, face beaming with a smile so bright and genuine that even Dean´s usual morning-grumpiness melts away like ice in the desert.

And Dean´s stupid little crush has only gotten worse since he found out that Sam and his two dogs just moved into the previously empty apartment two doors down from his own. They´re practically neighbors – a fact that makes him all jittery with nerves whenever he passes Sam´s door and is completely lost on Sam himself.

The guy probably doesn´t even know that Dean _exists_ , seeing as Dean spends most of his mornings in the kitchen, too busy baking bread and cupcakes and chocolate cookies to find the time to hang out at the counter and talk to his costumers, no matter how hot they are.

Sure, sometimes his breaks coincide with Sam´s visits, but what is Dean supposed to do? Go out there and introduce himself?

He snorts in amusement.

Yeah, right. That wouldn´t be weird at all.

So Dean resigns himself to watching and silently hoping that he´ll run into Sam by accident one day soon.

Maybe they´ll get stuck in the elevator together, just the two of them with no other means to kill the time then to get to know each other.

Or they´ll meet in the laundry room, half naked and a bit embarrassed at first, but then one of them will make a move, and -

Dean shakes his head. Yeah, he´s clearly been watching too much porn again.

Thank God that tomorrow is Saturday. Maybe a full night´s sleep will help him get over his stupid obsession.

 

*

 

Dean snorts awake to the sound of some idiot trying to kick down his front door.

Bright sunlight filters in through the windows and there´s birds singing outside. A picture perfect day, but his bed is soft and warm and entirely too comfortable for him to even consider leaving it.

Which is why Dean growls a deeply resentful “Go away!“ in the direction of his apartment door and then buries himself deeper into his pillows. It´s barley past 9 on a Saturday morning, there´s _no way_ he´s getting up this early. Not after the week he´s had.

Unfortunately, the idiot in front of his door is clearly not getting the message.

There´s another knock, more insistent this time, the sound echoing through his apartment and disturbing the quiet of his blanket fort, and _that´s just fucking it_!

Dean rolls out of bed with herculean effort and stumbles to his door under a steady stream of curses, not even caring that his hair is a mess and that he´s only wearing loose fitting pajama pants.

Whoever thinks it is a good idea to knock at his door at this ungodly hour, definitely deserves to see him in all his homicidal pre-coffee glory.

Chances are that it´s only Benny anyway, trying to get Dean to accompany him and Andrea to that food market thing the two have been talking about all week.

Dean wrenches the door open with much more force than necessary and barks out a wrathful “ _What_?“ at the person on the other side.

Then, he freezes.

There´s a time span of about five seconds where Dean wonders if he´s still in his bed, deeply asleep and dreaming, because lets be honest here - he´s had _a lot_ of dreams that have started in quite a similar way.

Crap. That´s definitely, _definitely_ not Benny.

“Hi!“ Sam offers cheerfully, bright smile barley faltering in the face of Dean´s stare. “You´re Dean, right?“

A drop of sweat slides down Sam´s throat and disappears into his shirt, a tantalizing dusting of soft-looking hair barley visible in the v of his collar, and suddenly the urge to step forward and lick Sam´s skin is near irresistible.

Somehow, Dean manages to only nod instead, momentarily not all that confident about the functionality of his vocal cords. He should´ve stayed in bed. He really, _really_ should´ve stayed in his goddamn bed.

“I´m Sam.“ Sam continues, blissfully unaware of Dean´s internal struggles.“I just moved into the flat down the hall but I never found the time to properly introduce myself to everyone. You know how it is - work to do, boxes to unpack... Anyway, better late than never, right?“

Dean nods again, still stunned, and watches as Sam´s smile dims a little at his apparent lack of enthusiasm.

“It´s so great to finally meet you, man. I´ve seen you around once or twice, but we never got to talk, and...”

It´s only then that Sam seems to take in the state of Dean´s clothing (or lack thereof), those big, pretty eyes slowly wandering from his face to his naked torso and pj pants, and Dean has to forcefully keep himself from crossing his arms over his chest like a bashful teenage girl protecting her modesty.

He´s usually not overly self-conscious, but dammit if Sam doesn´t make him feel all kinds of inadequate. Dude´s gorgeous and fucking cut – the guy could probably model for fitness adds, and while Dean´s no slouch himself, he certainly is nowhere near as fucking ripped as Sammy looks underneath that shirt. It´s not Dean´s fault that he can´t let the leftover cupcakes go to waste, goddammit.

Sam´s eyes stay glued to his chest for an uncomfortably long moment and Dean has to clear his throat repeatedly to regain Sam´s attention, fervently wishing he´d at least taken the time to pull on a shirt.

The blush blooming on Sam´s face when his eyes snap back up to Dean´s face is absolutely worth it, though. God, how on earth can a grown man be this adorable?

“Shit,“ Sam breaths, voice raspy with embarrassment. “Did I wake you? Oh God, I totally did, didn´t I? I´m so, so sorry! I didn´t...”

“S´okay,“ Dean interrupts him, surprised to find that it´s actually true.“I wanted to get up, anyway. You pretty much did me a favor, dude.“

Sam looks skeptical for a few moments, but then a tentative smile finds its way back on Sam´s face. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

They shake hands and Dean has to suppress a shudder when he notices how easily his hand is dwarfed by Sam´s. Fuck. He´s going to fucking daydream about this for _weeks_.

Sam, for all his previous bravado, suddenly seems at a loss of how to continue their conversation. He looks nervous, fingers playing with the seam of his shirt while he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

It´s absolutely, most definitely. not. cute.

“Weeell,“ Dean drawls after a few moments of awkward silence, and leans back against the door frame. He _does_ cross his arms this time and tells himself that it´s solely out of coolness reasons, and not at all because the gesture makes his biceps look spectacular. “Is this just a social call or is there something else I can help you with? Not that I´m complaining, but people usually don´t introduce themselves while they´re still dripping with sweat from their workout...“

He´s rewarded with an even deeper blush and more fidgeting.

“Yes, I mean, no, I - „ Sam interrupts himself and takes a deep breath before starting over again, more coherent this time. “My shower broke. The water is fucking freezing and I have absolutely no idea how to fix it. Already called housing but their usual plumper is off on Saturdays, and well... Can I – can I use your shower? _Please_? I know this is super weird and you can totally say no, of course. I just - I have this lunch date later on and there´s no way I can show up looking like this!” Sam grimaces. “God, this is so embarrassing...“

Dammit.

Dean´s not usually in the habit of letting strange men use his bathroom, but Sam´s looking at him with pleading eyes, sheepish and hopeful all at once, and come the fuck on! Early morning wake-up call or not, Dean is not that much of an asshole.

“Hot date, huh?“ He grins and wiggles his eyebrows, trying his best to sound more enthusiastic than he feels. Of course someone like Sam would already have a hot date waiting for him. Go figure. “Well, I can´t leave a guy hanging, now, can I? Go grab your stuff, man.”

Sam´s eyes snap up to his in disbelieve. He looks a bit like a fish out of water, clearly surprised that Dean doesn´t require more bribery.

“Seriously?“

“Seriously.” Dean can´t help but laugh at him a little. “Just don´t use my razor to shave your balls or something, and we´re golden.“

Sam seems stunned for a moment before his face contorts into a disgusted scowl. “Gross, dude! Why would I even do that?“

Then his expression transforms into one of eternal gratitude, and for a moment Dean is sure Sam´s about to hug him.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, Dean is still debating that one), Sam seems to remember that he´s gross and sweaty and in no shape to hug _anybody_ , least of all a virtual stranger, so all Dean gets is another deeply dimpled smile.

”Thank you! You´re a freaking life saver!“

Dean waves him off and then sends Sam back to his own apartment to grab a towel and whatever else he needs.

And if he stays a bit longer to watch Sammy´s ass while he walks down the hall, then there´s no one else there to judge him for it.

“Hot date,“ Dean reminds himself and pads over to the bathroom to take a piss and check the overall cleanness of the room. He picks up a few stray socks and shoves a bunch of dirty clothes that have been pilling on the floor into the laundry basket.

He´s just about done when another knock sounds from the door, and this time Dean doesn´t hesitate before opening it to let Sam in.

“This is – seriously. I really can´t thank you enough for letting me do this!“

Dean shrugs and laughs a little awkwardly, weirdly unsettled by the force of Sam´s smile.

“It´s not a big deal, dude. No one likes cold showers and asking the Millers would´ve been a disaster.“ The Millers are the only other family living on their floor and while they´re incredibly nice, they also have three little kids. They do not need an additional person blocking their only bathroom.

Sam disappears into the shower and Dean makes a detour to the kitchen to get his coffee machine started before grabbing a clean shirt from his room.

He then spends the next fifteen minutes sipping his coffee and very purposefully not thinking about the fact the Sam is naked and dripping wet in his shower down the hall.

Dean´s surprisingly successful and actually rather proud of himself - but all his efforts go to shit the very moment Sam emerges from the bathroom.

Gone are the old shorts and the sweaty t-shirt – Sam´s wearing jeans now. _Tight_ jeans. Tight jeans paired with an even tighter, dark blue Henley that hugs his chest in all the right places.

Jesus, this guy is going to kill him.

“Dude!” Sam walks over, still rubbing at his hair with a towel.”Your shower is amazing! Seriously, your shower head is so much better than mine! You have to tell me where to get one of those!”

He stops in front of Dean and drops the towel, his messy hair flying in every direction. It doesn´t diminish his hotness in the slightest.

“Thank you, Dean. You totally saved my sorry ass right now, I really have no idea what I would´ve done without you. You´ll have to let me buy you a beer as a thank you!”

Sam´s smile throws the butterflies in Dean´s stomach into an absolute frenzy and he can´t help but grin back.

“Better make that two, man. And come over if you need another shower, shit like that usually takes a few days.”

Dean pours Sam a coffee and they chat for a while longer before Sam finally excuses himself with an apologetic look at his watch.

“Good luck with the date!“ Dean says just before Sam leaves, and he means it. He´d much rather keep Sam to himself, but that doesn´t mean that he has to be an asshole about it.

Sam laughs and promises to keep Dean posted, and then he´s gone, door clicking shut behind him.

Dean sighs and drops his forehead to the table top.

He is so, _so_ fucked.

 

*

 

“What the hell, Dean” Andrea´s eyes are nearly bulging out of her head when Dean tells her the shower story during their Monday morning coffee break. “You had the guy naked in your shower and you didn´t do anything about it?”

She and Anna are looking at him disapprovingly. It makes Dean feel all kinds of defensive.

“What did you want me to do? Drop my pants and jump the guy in the shower? Lure him in with breakfast and then tie him to my chair? Did you miss the part where he told me that _he was on his way to a_ _date_?”

Anna snorts. “No, you idiot. But maybe get his number? Fix a date for that beer he promised you? Come on, Winchester! It´s not like you to be shy about this kind of stuff!"

Dean scowls but wisely doesn´t say anything. Anna´s not exactly wrong if he´s being honest.

“Oh my God!” Andrea´s words are muffled by a big bite of chocolate cake. “You _like_ him, don´t you? _Like_ like him - that´s why you´re all awkward and blushing and staring at him from the safety of your goddamn kitchen. Jesus fucking Christ, Dean!”

“Shut up!” Dean grumbles and sends a glare her way. He should definitely get some new employees. And new friends too, while he´s already at it. “I barely know the guy!”

“Exactly.” Anna´s grins triumphantly. “And you´re already completely gone on him.”

She then turns to Andrea and high-fives her enthusiastically.

Dean nearly chokes on his coffee. “For fuck´s sake, he had a date, Anna! With a _woman_. The guy´s probably only looking for a friend, and I will not screw that up by hitting on him. I can do friends! In fact, I´m an awesome friend! Just don´t go sticking your noses where they don´t belong and let me do my thing!”

With that he grabs his coffee and retreats back to his kitchen. Sometimes Dean really wonders what he did to deserve friends like these.

 

*

 

Three days later, the sunny late-summer-turning-into-autumn weather takes a turn to the worse.

The whole day had been sort of bleak, thick clouds slowly accumulating on the sky, wind picking up speed, temperatures dropping. It´s just past 7 pm when the thunderstorm breaks.

Dean stares out into the pouring rain and tries to bury himself deeper into the warm layers of his favorite hoodie. Thank fuck he´s home already – his working hours may be weird and inconvenient as hell, but they do have certain advantages from time to time.

With one last pitying look at the people outside his window, Dean turns back to the stove and checks the progress of his chili. The smell alone is enough to make his mouth water and his stomach grumble greedily in anticipation. No wonder – he´s been running on coffee and cheese sandwiches all day, which means that he´s pretty much starving by now.

He´s just about to add a bit more salt to his dish when a knock sounds from his door.

Frowning, he lowers the heat and wipes his hands on a kitchen towel before he answers the door, only half surprised to find Sam on the other side of it.

What´s more surprising is the state he´s in.

The guy´s soaked – hair plastered to his face and his white dress shirt near translucent from all the water. He looks absolutely miserable and freezing, a puddle already forming at his feet.

“Jesus, Sammy!“ Dean immediately throws the door wide open and ushers him inside and then off in the direction of the bathroom. “Shit, dude, you ever heard of umbrellas?”

Sam too busy shivering to give him an answer and he doesn´t even protest when Dean pushes him through the bathroom door.

“Strip!” Dean commands, before he turns on the shower and then runs to his room to get some clean clothes for Sam.

When he returns, Sam´s bare-chested and in the process of peeling his slacks off his long, long legs, his soaked-through underwear providing Dean with an excellent view of his muscular ass.

Dean swallows and tears his eyes away. Sam´s freezing and clearly in dire need of warming up. Really not the time to be a fucking creep and ogle him.

“Get into the shower and warm yourself back up.” He says instead, eyes on the broken tile right next to Sam´s head. “I found you some clothes that should fit you more or less. Join me in the kitchen when you´re done.”

Sam´s answering smile is tiny but sincere. “Thanks, man. You´re saving my ass again.”

Dean smiles back and then goes back to the kitchen before he can elaborate on what else he´d like to do to Sam´s ass.

 

*

 

Sam comes out of the bathroom just as Dean´s chili is done cooking.

He looks much better now – still wet, but not nearly as frozen, his cheeks flushed with warmth and no longer pale from the cold.

He´s also wearing Dean´s clothes, and damn it to hell, Sam looks ridiculously hot in them. They´re clearly a bit too tight, stretching across his shoulders and chest in a way that sends Dean´s thoughts into dangerous territory. The knowledge that Sam is going commando in those sweatpants is not improving things either.

“Wow, this smells amazing.” Sam´s voice sounds hopeful and jealous all at once, and the combination is so weird that Dean can´t help but laugh at him.

Thankfully, Sam doesn´t seem offended by that. His smile turns sheepish, though, and the blush on his cheeks deepens even further, now more embarrassment than shower-warmth.

“Sorry.” He mumbles. “I just don´t have the time to cook all that often, and take-out is nice and all, but nothing beats a home-cooked meal.“

“Don´t worry about it.” Dean tells him and starts filling two bowls with chili.”I made way too much anyway, and you seriously need to warm yourself up before you get sick.”

He gestures towards his fridge.

“Grab us a beer, would you? And there´s leftover cupcakes in the paper bag on the little table next to the front door. We can share them for desserts if you want.”

Sam does as he´s told, opening a beer for both of them before grabbing the cupcakes. He comes back with a huge grin on his face, eyes full of delight as he rummages through the bag.

“Dude, you got me cupcakes from _Purgatory_?”

Dean laughs. “Well, I didn´t buy them for you specifically, but yeah. Why? Don´t tell me you don´t like them!”

“Are you kidding? I freaking love them! Best bakery in the whole city! I drop by most mornings, actually. The poor employees already know me by name!” Sam looks at him curiously. “Do you go there often? I think I would remember seeing you around.”

Dean scratches his neck and tries to fight the blush spreading on his cheeks. God, this is awkward. “I own the place, actually.”

Sam´s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “You _what_?”

“My friend Benny and I opened it a few years back. We´re usually in the kitchen doing all the baking while Anna and Andrea keep the place running. ´s probably why you haven´t seen me around.”

“Dude.” Sam groans after a few moments of disbelieving silence. “Marry me, would you? I can´t believe you can cook _and_ bake.”

Dean pushes one of the bowls into Sam´s giant hands.

“Maybe you should try my food before you start committing yourself.” He says with a wink and gestures for Sam to take a seat.

 

*

 

“So, shoot.” Dean says twenty minutes later as he flops down on his sofa next to Sam. “How was your date?”

Part of him really doesn´t want to know, but being jealous is no excuse for being rude, so he sucks it up and decides to take the news like a friend would.

To his secret delight, Sam only rolls his eyes dramatically and takes a long drink from his beer. “Don´t even ask. I´m still trying to erase the memory.”

Dean winces. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” Sam grimaces, “It was my first try at online dating, and well, probably my last, too.” He shudders. “First of all, the guy showed up thirty minutes late without so much as an apology. And then – God, I´ve met some self-absorbed people, but that guy? Unbelievable! Apparently, he´s a neurosurgeon and the best damn thing since Henry Marsh.... I don´t think he was even really interested in a date, guess the guy only needed someone to talk to for a few hours. It was bad enough that I faked a family emergency and then high-tailed it out of there.”

A guy _._ Dean thought. Sam had been on a date with _a guy._

Sam. was. gay.

Holy shit.

And also -

“Wait a moment.” Dean sat up a bit straighter. “Was the guy´s name Mike? Mike O´Donnell? Dark hair, grayish eyes?”

“Yeah.” Sam looked at him quizzically. “Why, do you know him?”

“Sort of. I went on a date with him, too. Once.”

Sam nearly chocked on his beer. “Seriously? How did that go?”

“What do you think?” Dean snorted. “Just about as bad as yours. The guy´s ego is bigger than the freaking Mount Everest.”

“God, yes! I thought he´d never shut up!”

Sam launches into the details of his date, which then leads to them trying to one-up another with their most cringe-worthy date stories.

Dean´s pretty sure that he hasn´t laughed this hard in years, and so he doesn´t even question it, when Sam knocks on his front door two days later with two six packs of beer under his arms.

He just steps aside to let Sam in, and then orders two pizzas instead of one.

They watch the game together, cheering at their team and cursing the referee, and Dean stays up way longer than he usually would.

The stomach ache he gets the next morning from drinking too much coffee is totally worth it, though.

 

*

 

After that, they quickly fall into a routine.

Sam still comes into the bakery every morning, but now Dean makes an actual effort to meet him at the counter. He´s not able to do that as often as he would like to, some days are too busy to allow him a fifteen minute break this early in the morning, but on the days that things do work out, Sam and him have breakfast together at the little table in the corner right next to the counter.

Some days Benny or one of the girls join them, other days, they are completely alone and quietly chatting about their plans for the day.

Dean learns that Sam is a big fan of his lemon tarts and that he usually likes his coffee black and scalding hot, but is very likely to change his order to an overly sweet hazelnut latte on days that promise to end in a shit storm. Sam´s also really into their curry-chicken sandwiches, barley tolerates jam filled donuts, and would probably murder someone for a bite of one of their fresh-out-of-the-oven cinnamon buns.

Inevitably, Sam and him also start hanging out more during the evenings and weekends.

They like the same TV-shows, cheer for the same sports teams – so why stay in their respective apartments when they can watch together, curled up on the sofa next to each other, beer and nachos between them while they discuss plot points and game strategies.

Game nights quickly evolve into cooking together since it´s way more fun to eat in company, and from there it doesn´t take long until they go out to meet each other´s friends on a regular basis.

It´s kind of weird how they fit together seamlessly, how much they have in common and how easy it is to find common ground on the few things they disagree on. It´s effortless and comfortable, two months of knowing each other that feel like a lifetime of shared experiences and moments.

Dean has never clicked with another person this quickly or this completely. It´s awesome and terrifying and the best damn thing in the whole world.

He´s happy. He really, really is.

The only downside is, that his friends don´t seem to agree with him.

Sometimes, they tease him about it, make jokes about how him and Sam behave like an old married couple, ask him when they´ll finally own up to the fact that they are, in fact, dating, and not simply hanging out as friends.

But Dean can see their worry underneath.

They all know that he wants more, that he sometimes wishes that there were no nachos and beer between him and Sam during their movies, that some mornings, he wants to lean in and kiss the chocolate frosting right off of Sam´s lips.

That he wants to wake up with Sam´s stupid hair hanging into his eyes, that he fears the end credits of their movies, because they mean that the evening is over and that he has to leave and crawl back into his own empty bed.

Dean knows that he´s pining – it´s unlike him, usually he just goes for what he wants, but with Sam? With Sam, it´s different.

They´re best friends. Maybe even soulmates.

And Sam´s hot, and gorgeous, the smartest guy Dean has ever met.

They´re great together, spectacular even, but that doesn´t mean that they´re meant for more, now, does it?

Some things are simply too good to be true.

 

*

 

Dean is checking his phone for what must be the two-hundredth time already.

There´s still no new messages. No calls. No news from Sam.

It´s not like him to be late. Sam is never late.

He usually walks into the bakery at exactly 8:00 every morning to grab is lunch bag and have breakfast with Dean. They chat a bit, and then Sam´s off again to have a shower and go to work.

It´s their routine now. Their Thing. It´s not like Sam to miss it.

“Just call him already!” Andrea groans from behind the coffee machine. “Ask him why he´s late or if he´s coming in at all. Seriously, Dean, if I have to watch another half an hour of you pining after your boyfriend...”

“He´s not my boyfriend.” Dean hisses. “We´re friends! How many times do I have to tell you that?”

Andrea opens her mouth to retort something, but just then the tiny bell at their door heralds the entrance of another costumer and Dean finds with relief that it´s Sam.

For once, there´s no running shoes in sight. Instead Sam´s already dressed in his lawyer suit, all clean-cut and elegant looking, his hair styled perfectly and a big business case in his left hand.

He looks stressed and a bit panicky, but that look melts away as soon as he meets Dean´s eyes and is replaced with a warm smile.

“Sorry for being late.” Sam offers as he steps closer. “I slept through my alarm and I barley had enough time to walk the dogs before I had to leave.”

Dean frowns and waves him down to the end of the counter where a giant cup of coffee and a bag filled with banana bread are waiting for Sam.

“You´re big case closes today, doesn´t it? Why didn´t you just text me that you weren´t coming in today? No need to be late on my behalf.”

To his surprise, Sam blushes bright red.

“BecauseIneededtoseeyou?” he mumbles, the words only barley intelligible, and quickly looks away.

Dean ignores the pleasant warmth that spreads through his stomach at Sam´s words and wiggles an eyebrow suggestively. “Bullshit. We both know you only like me because I give you coffee.”

Sam´s answering smile doesn´t quite reach his eyes, but he agrees with a nod and then takes a long sip from his to-go cup. He moans a little at the taste, eyes fluttering closed and tongue flicking out to lick the coffee from his lips.

Dean swallows and digs his fingers into his thighs to keep himself from reaching out.

“Alright, Mr. Hotshot Lawyer!” He says, a bit louder than strictly necessary in a futile attempt to distract himself. “You need to be at court in forty minutes, so get your ass into gear and show those son´s of bitches what your fancy degree is worth. And don´t you dare come home late tonight, it´s your turn to cook.”

Sam scrunches up his nose in that adorable way that makes him look like an overgrown puppy. “Is takeout okay? I really don´t think I´ll have the energy to cook tonight.”

“Sure.” Dean shrugs. “You know me – get me a nice juicy burger and I´m game. Want me to take the dogs for a run before you get home?”

Sam nods gratefully. “That´d be awesome. The Miller kids love them, but they never give them enough exercise. You still got my key?”

“Yup!” Dean hands Sam the paper bag with his lunch. “I´ll take the kids on a run and then bring them over to my place. You just come join us whenever you get back.”

With that, he leans in and presses a short kiss to Sam´s lips.

“Now go and kick some ass, man. Those people are counting on you.”

He pulls back and tries to give Sam an encouraging smile, but the expression falls right off of his face when he sees that Sam is staring at him as if he´s grown a second head. A look over at Andrea is enough to see that she´s mirroring Sam´s face of horror, and it´s only then that Dean notices the hush that has suddenly fallen over the place, an awkward quiet that is filled with tension and a weird sort of anticipation.

It takes Dean an embarrassingly long moment to catch on.

_Oh._

Oh _, fuck._

Dean´s stomach lurches painfully and is face suddenly feels hotter than Mount Doom.

_Fucking A, Winchester._

“Shit.” He breathes, desperately scrambling for an explanation that doesn´t end with Sam decking him one. “Shit, Sammy, I´m so sorry. I didn´t mean to do that, it just sorta happened and I really don´t know why I -”

He breaks off when Sam presses two of his giant fingers to Dean´s lips.

“You´re such an idiot.” Sam tells him emphatically before he leans over the counter right into Dean´s space. The fingers on his mouth disappear, only to be replaced by the gentle press of Sam´s lips, and then Sam is kissing him. _Really_ kissing him, soft and affectionate, like he can´t quite believe it himself, Sam´s long fingers gently cradling Dean´s jaw and holding him in place.

Fucking finally.

One of Dean´s hands finds its way into Sam´s hair and he uses the leverage to pull him closer, opens his mouth to deepen the kiss.

It takes an excited squeal from Andrea to finally break them apart, and even then, Dean can´t be bothered to move too far away.

Sam seems to feel the same way, because he leans their foreheads together and gives Dean a secretive smile. It´s a new one, one that Dean has never seen before, and it does bad, bad things to his stomach.

„I´ll see you tonight, yeah?“ Sam asks softly, and Dean nods before pulling him in for another all-too-short kiss.

Sam pulls off reluctantly, grabs his coffee and briefcase, and then makes his way to the door. He turns just he´s about to open it and with one final look back at Dean, he´s gone.

Behind Dean, Andrea breaks into a fit of laughter. “Holy shit, Winchester.”

“Ah, shut it, Andy.” Dean growls halfheartedly, eyes still fixed on the door.

He can´t wait for tonight.


End file.
